Returning Home
by FrodoBaggins922
Summary: On a trip from Minas Tirith to the Shire, Frodo falls dangerously ill. Post-quest.
1. Chapter 1

This is the first fanfic I wrote for FrodoHealers. Febobe, this is dedicated to you. I hope you like it!

Characters: Frodo, Sam, an OC named Iona, Merry, Pippin, brief appearance by Aragorn.

Summary: Frodo falls dangerously ill on the way from Minas Tirith to the Shire. Post-quest.

Rating information and cautions: There is no sex, slash, or profanity in this, as according to FrodoHealers standards. There are, however, some semi-graphic details of wounds and the like, so if you are terribly squeamish (as in, seeing the word blood makes you feel sick), then I advise you not to read this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Minas Tirith...etc. Tolkien does.

Notes: This story may get a little confusing. It is entirely written in first person, but Chapter One is written from Frodo's point of view, and most of the others are from Sam's, and there will be one or two with other characters. But as you read, you shouldn't have trouble finding out who is talking.

Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

~CHAPTER ONE~

It all started happening some time after the quest. It had been almost two months since the horrid climb up that mountain, and all of the terrible things that had come with it, and I thought that I had fully recovered; in body, if not in spirit. So it cam as a surprise to me when I awoke one morning with a terrible pain in my shoulder, the one that had been stabbed by the morgul blade so long ago. Now, I did occasionally have a bit of pain in that shoulder, but this was different, worse. Still, I didn't think much of it, I thought it would feel better as the day went on, like it usually did.

But it didn't. It only got worse and worse. But there was no way I was going to be sick that day. Because that was the day Sam, Merry, Pippin, and I were going back to the Shire to visit family and friends. Aragorn had given us a wagon and we were packing our things up to leave Minas Tirith. Everything was in order, and we were ready to go, and I wasn't about to say I didn't feel well. Because, if I did, Sam would insist we didn't go today, and I knew that he was really looking forward to seeing Rosie. And, besides, I wasn't going to faint or anything like that.

So, while we packed and got ready to go, I kept my pain a secret, even though it was killing me to do so. But I could tell Sam thought something was wrong-He always seems to know when something's wrong with me-because he kept asking me, "Are you alright, Mr. Frodo?" "Do you need to rest, Mr. Frodo?" I always replied to all of his inquiries that I had never felt better, even though that was one of the biggest lies I ever told. Sam just shrugged obviously not believing me. But it was going to be alright. I was just the usual shoulder pain I'd had since weathertop. And I was sure it'd soon pass, like it had all the other times. But I was wrong.

We continued with our trip as planned. Sam was driving the wagon, and Merry and Pippin were in the back. I was sitting on the back of the wagon, my feet hanging off the edge. I was beginning to feel a bit queasy, as usual. My shoulder hurt more with every bump we went over, and by now, eight hours after we started, it wasn't just my shoulder. It was most of my body. And I had started getting the chills on top of that when Pippin remarked, "Hey Sam, you might want to stop the wagon for a little while. Frodo's turning a pretty shade o' green."

I didn't like riding much, and I usually got sick, so I guess Sam didn't take much notice of Pip's comment, because all he did was slow the horse a bit. But then Merry said, "He's shaking real bad too."

Well, that was enough to cause Sam to yank the reins and throw himself from the wagon seat and run around back to me. He took one look at me and started. The last thing I heard was his worried voice. "Mr. Frodo! can you hear me? What happened?" Then I did exactly what I said I wouldn't do.

I fainted cold on the ground.

~To be Continued~


	2. Chapter 2

Second update! Thanks for the reviews. But I will not update again until I have at least five reviews. So, if you want to read more, REVIEW! I need to know how I'm doing, or I don't feel like writing. Any spelling or grammar mistakes please don't be afraid to point out!) So, anyway, I hope you like it.

P.S. If you review me enough and give me a name, I might just include in the future chapters of this fic some way...

Characters: Frodo, Sam, an OC named Iona, Merry, Pippin, brief appearance by Aragorn.

Summary: Frodo falls dangerously ill on the way from Minas Tirith to the Shire. Post-quest.

Rating information and cautions: There is no sex, slash, or profanity in this, as according to FrodoHealers standards. There are, however, some semi-graphic details of wounds and the like, so if you are terribly squeamish (as in, seeing the word blood makes you feel sick), then I advise you not to read this.

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, Frodo, Sam, Merry, Pippin, Minas Tirith...etc. Tolkien does.

Notes: This story may get a little confusing. It is entirely written in first person, but Chapter One is written from Frodo's point of view, and most of the others are from Sam's, and there will be one or two with other characters. But as you read, you shouldn't have trouble finding out who is talking.

~CHAPTER TWO~

I'd expected something like this. Mr. Frodo just hadn't been quite right since the Nazgul attack at Weathertop. Since then, even when he ate well, he had gotten thinner and thinner, and paler by the day, which just wasn't right for a hobbit. Still, I just assumed that he'd be alright now that the ring was gone.

But when Master Merry made that comment, I knew that something was wrong. Really wrong. Like Master Pippin had said, Mr. Frodo had turned green, but it wasn't the usual green that he turned when riding made him sick. It was a pale, yellowish green, and if it weren't for that sickly coloring, he would have been stark white. His poor face was twisted into a grimace, and he looked the most miserable I'd seen him since one of those days in Mordor.

I was terrified. "Mr. Frodo?" I asked earnestly, "Mr. Frodo, can you hear me?" I put my hands on his shoulders. "What's the matter? What happened?" But he just stared blankly off into space, eyes glazed over.

I kept pleading with him. Then, at last, he looked me in the eye, but he still looked dazed and confused. Then he muttered one word in the tiniest, most pitiful voice I had ever heard a grown hobbit use. "Sam..." he said. I thought he might be getting a little better since we stopped, but it was just the opposite.

The next second, he fainted and fell off the wagon, lying on the ground with his eyes just slightly heart almost stopped. He looked dead. "Mr. Frodo!" I almost shouted. I could feel tears already springing to my eyes. He couldn't be dead. I shakily touched his wrist to check for a pulse. Then, a sigh of relief escaped me. He had one. He was still alive.

But for how much longer, I didn't know. But I did know one thing. I had to get Mr. Frodo back to civilization. Minas Tirith was over eight hours away, though. We'd never get back in time if Mr. Frodo was really as badly off as he seemed.

So, here we we were, four hobbits and a wagon out in the middle of nowhere, with poor Mr. Frodo looking like he was going to die on us any moment. It was hard for me not to panic. I had followed him all the way to Mordor and back, you know, and I didn't want to lose him. But I didn't panic, figuring that I was probably the only one who knew even remotely what to do to help.

It was then I remembered the medicines that Lord Elrond had given me 'just in case,' which were stowed in the wagon. But I didn't want to leave Mr. Frodo to get them. So I looked up into the wagon and saw it on the top of the stack of our luggage. Masters Merry and Pippin were just sitting there looking on, not doing anything productive, as usual. "Merry, Pippin!" I ordered them, "Get me the little black box."

"Which one?" Master Pippin asked, looking dauntedly at the pile of luggage, in which were many black boxes.

"The one on the top. The little one," I replied. The two younger hobbits ran over to the pile and began to climb, in sort of a race to get to the top. Neither of them succeeding, I was about to fuss at them when Master Merry decided to stay on the ground while Pip climbed up and got the box, tossing it down to him. Soon, I had the box in my hands. I looked worriedly at Mr. Frodo, who, losing his queasiness, was not the stark white I had thought about. He was shaking terribly, and his hair was damp with sweat. I touched his forehead and almost jumped back in surprise. He was hotter than I had ever felt him.

I opened my medicine box, and pulled out the two bottles that would bring Mr. Frodo's fever down and give him some pain relief. I pulled Mr. Frodo's shirt down to see his shoulder wound, saw it was red and inflamed, and got Lord Elrond's special salve as well. "Get me some water from that creek," I said to Master Merry.

He soon brought me a cup and a bucket of water. I dipped some water into the cup and mixed the medicines into it, as Lord Elrond had taught me to. Then I soaked a cloth in the cool water and laid it across poor Mr. Frodo's sweating forehead. Pippin brought me a blanket. "He looks cold," he offered as he handed it to me.

I just nodded and lay the blanket over Mr. Frodo's shaking body, tucking in the edges around him. I picked up the cup of medicine and held it to his lips, supporting his head and neck with my other hand. I was once again surprised at how hot he felt. I tipped the cup a little so some of the liquid would go into his mouth. I was relieved that it went down, and tried a little more, but that was too much for Mr. Frodo. He began to cough violently, and the medicine I had given him came back out the way it went in.

I was close to tears, because I knew that, if he didn't get the medicine, he'd die. But I didn't let it show. I just cleaned Mr. Frodo up and and massaged his shoulder with Lord Elrond's salve. Then I tried again, and I got the same result. But I wasn't going to give up so easily. "Merry, Pip, make a bed up in the wagon for him," I said, "We're staying here tonight.

The two hobbits went into action. When a nice, comfortable bed of blankets was made up for Mr. Frodo, I picked him up and carried him over to it. It reminded me of when I had carried him in Mordor, when he couldn't walk. "You can't die now, Mr. Frodo," I whispered, "Not after all you've been through!"

~To be continued~


	3. Chapter 3

So, I've reached the magic five reviews. But before I update again, I have to have ten reviews, just to know enough people are interested. And, please, include a name (It can be your name or a pen name) in your reviews, and the tenth reviewer might just get a spot in chapter four!

Disclaimer: I own my computer. I own my books. I own Iona Aranthol. I do NOT own Lord of the Rings. Here's a surprise: Tolkien does! And another one: I'm not him!

Warnings: There's some detail of wounds and such in this chapter, and the usual medical stuff. There is no sex, slash, or profanity.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Iona Aranthol, Merry, and Pippin.

Summary: Frodo falls dangerously ill on the way from Minas Tirith to the Shire. Post-quest.

Author's note: This chapter, like most of them, is written from Sam's point of view. However, within a few chapters, there will be one from Iona Aranthol's. It's not terribly confusing; I just thought I would warn you!

~CHAPTER THREE~

All night long, I sat up with Mr. Frodo. Several times, I tried getting the medicine down, and as many times, I failed. At about five in the morning, I thought he was improving. He had gotten a bit more color in his cheeks, and was shaking less. I had just replaced the cool cloth across his forehead when, in a voice barely audible, he said, "Sam, are you here?"

I felt my heart jump. I put my hands on his hot cheeks and said, "Yes, Mr. Frodo, your Sam's here." I massaged some more of the salve on his shoulder.

Mr. Frodo started shaking again really badly and said, "Sam... It... hurts..." then he coughed a bit, "A lot." He coughed again.

When I thought he was done coughing, I picked up the medicine again. "Come on, Mr. Frodo," I said, "You have to try to drink this. It'll make you better." I held it to his lips.

But, weak as he was, Mr. Frodo put up a hand and pushed the cup away. "No, Sam..." he whimpered. Then he started shaking and coughing all over again.

I was near tears. But I didn't press him to drink it anymore. I couldn't, his voice was so pitiful. I did try to get him to drink some more that night, but it didn't do anything.

The night had been cold, and, even though I had put quite a few extra blankets over Mr. Frodo, by morning he had developed a hacking, pneumonia-like cough. The medicine cup was now almost empty, and its contents were all over the bed, Mr. Frodo, and me. It had been a fruitless effort to try to get him to take his medicine.

And he looked increasingly worse by the minute. I was terribly worried and nearly in a panic. I was thinking, 'don't die, Mr. Frodo! I need you! You can't die! You can't leave me!' And I may have even voiced my concern, though I was in such a panicked state that I couldn't tell. I took the old blankets off and put new ones on, giving the old ones to Merry and Pippin to wash.

It hadn't been five minutes before Pip came running in. "Sam!" he cried. I turned from Mr. Frodo to his excited, breathless face. "Merry an' I were washing the blankets in the creek, and we saw someone."

I got worried. "Who?" I asked nervously. We had had bad experience with strangers before. Granted, that was during the quest, when Sauron wanted the Ring and would have done anything to get it. Now Sauron and the Ring were gone, but I still didn't want to take any chances.

"An elf," Pip said matter-of-factly. "Merry's talking to her right now." He glanced back outside. "I think they're coming over here."

I could hear Merry's voice talking to the elf. "Well, my cousin Frodo's in the wagon. He's not doing too well." And he proceeded to tell all about the Nazgul attack, the quest, and everything else. At last, the elf said, "I'll go see."

In a few seconds, the flap on the wagon cover was drawn back. The elf looked in. She was quite tall, with black hair and blue eyes. She was built in the usual delicate manner of the other elves I had seen. But I was still wary. "Who are you?" I asked her.

The elf looked at me with her piercing blue eyes. After saying something in Elvish, she said, "I am Iona Aranthol. I come from Lothlorien, and I am a friend of Lord Faramir and Lady Eowyn." Iona paused, and with a look at Mr. Frodo, "I am a healer."

I still stood between her and Mr. Frodo. "How can I be sure?" I asked. She seemed trustworthy enough. She was an elf, after all. But how could I be sure she wasn't trying to trap us?

"You are so protective, Samwise Gamgee," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You have always been. I know of Frodo's quest. I know of what you both went through to destroy the One Ring." Iona put a hand on my shoulder. "And I know that you do not want any harm to come to Frodo now. But I can help him." She looked deep into my eyes. "If only you will let me."

I was silent. "You can try," I said to her, exhaling. "But I don't think you can do much. He won't take the medicine." I glanced over my shoulder at Mr. Frodo. He was still shaking and sweating. I didn't think there was much more I could do. But maybe she could do something.

Iona already had a hand on Mr. Frodo's cheek. She murmured something in Elvish. "I am glad I came," she said, "In a few hours, he would have been dead." She pulled a plant out of a little bag. "Do you have water?" she asked me.

I nodded, pointing to the bucket of water. Iona dipped the plant in the water and rubbed it across Mr. Frodo's forehead, speaking soothingly in Elvish the whole time. Mr. Frodo whimpered slightly. I moved closer to him. "It's alright, Mr. Frodo," I said, "You're going to be alright."

I only wished I felt as sure as I sounded.

~To be Continued~

What do you think? Remember, I'd love to have more reviews. In fact, I LIVE on reviews. So, if you know what I mean, REVIEW ME! Oh, and if you would like a part in an upcoming chapter, please put a codename in the review.

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

You guys are so awesome! You are so supportive, you make me feel like someone appreciates my writing! I love you all! And so, I give you, Chapter four, even though I may not have 10 reviews, but because all of you are so supportive anyway. It makes me so happy! Thanks again!

Disclaimer: Last night I had a dream I owned Lord of the Rings. But guess what? It was just a dream. I am no closer to owning it than I was last update. Tolkien still owns it.

Warnings: Be prepared for surprise. No sex, slash, or profanity.

Characters: Frodo, Sam, Iona Aranthol, Merry, and Pippin. (You could be on this list if you revieeew me!)

Summary: Frodo falls dangerously ill on the way from Minas Tirith to the Shire. Post-quest.

Author's note: This is the surprise chapter! There may be good surprises, there may be bad surprises, you'll just have to read it and find out!

~CHAPTER FOUR~

_It was the most beautiful day I had seen in a while. The sun was shining, and I was sitting by the creek back at home in the Shire. My feet were in the cool water, and I was sitting under the shade of a tree. Then, suddenly, I was in the water. I stood back up, and prepared to strike back, when I heard a familiar laugh. I whirled, and there stood Mr. Frodo._

_"Sam!" he cried, "You didn't even hear me, did you?" He was looking at my shocked expression. But I was more shocked by him than by the cold water. He was standing there, right in front of me, looking about as well as could be. Last I had seen him, he was in a bad state. But he was fine now. His eyes sparkled as he laughed. _

_"Mr. Frodo!" I shouted in ecstasy. "Mr. Frodo, you're alright!" I ran up from the creek and wrapped my arms around him, so happy I was to see him. "I thought you were going to die!"_

_He returned the embrace. "I'm perfectly fine, Sam," he said, "And so glad to be home." He looked around him, a smile on his face as he took in the familiar surroundings. _

_I grinned. "It's the best place in Middle Earth," I agreed. Then I looked him over again. He had never looked better since we had left the Shire at the very beginning of all this. Now I was sure it would be just like it was before. _

_Then Mr. Frodo looked at me, the mirth gone from his eyes, but still joyful. "Sam..." he said softly. He put his hand in mine. "I'm glad you're here. I'm glad you stayed with me. Without you, we never would have come back."_

_We lay down under the tree for a while, and I could still hear him saying my name softly. We were home now. And we were together. And that was all that really mattered. The Ring was gone, Sauron was gone, and we were free to remain here. Just like it was before. "Sam..." Mr. Frodo's voice was like a breath of wind. So quiet. _

"Sam... Samwise Gamgee!" I started awake. Iona Aranthol was bending over me. "Are you awake?" she asked.

I looked up. "Iona?" I asked. I sat up and realized that I had fallen asleep. And that we were not in the Shire. Where were we? Then, I remembered. "Mr. Frodo!" I cried, jumping to my feet. Iona looked down at me with a resigned expression.

This could only mean one thing. I could already feel hot tears coming down my cheeks. "He's... dead?" I asked, "Mr. Frodo's dead? No, he can't be dead. He can't be! You said you would help him! You said you would heal him! How could you let him die!" My voice rose to a shout. Then I lowered it again. "Mr. Frodo can't be dead. Not now."

Iona glanced toward the wagon. "He is not," she said simply, "Not yet. But I can do no more for him. His wound in not that which harms the body as much as it harms his soul." She put a hand on my shoulder. "Try to make him comfortable. Frodo may survive, but it does not seem very likely."

I could not hold back the tears. If Iona was a healer, and she couldn't do anything to help Mr. Frodo, then no one could help him. I thought about the events of the day before. I had been so sure Mr. Frodo would survive.

When Iona came to our little camp, and she thought she knew how to save him, I had felt so hopeful. All throughout that day, she and I had nursed him. We kept Merry and Pippin running errands for us. As afternoon drew near, Iona managed to get a small bit of a different medicine into him. I was overjoyed.

As evening fell, I was exhausted, not having slept all night. Mr. Frodo seemed less hot, and he shook less. He seemed to be improving greatly. "Have some sleep, Samwise," Iona had told me in her soft, mysterious, musical voice not unlike Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien's voice, "You look like you need it."

I had refused quite firmly, saying that I would stay up with Mr. Frodo. But by about nine, my eyelids were very heavy, and, even though I had tried to stay awake, I dozed off several times. At last, I told myself that Mr. Frodo would be alright, and instantly I fell into a deep sleep. Iona must have taken me outside after I had fallen asleep, and laid me in the tent where Merry and Pippin slept. And there I had had that wonderful dream, and I was so sure that Mr. Frodo would be alright while I slept.

Now, I felt more guilty than I had ever felt in my life. He was dying. Almost dead, the way it sounded. And I was sleeping, when I could have been staying with him, trying to help him. Tears flowed freely down my face as I entered the wagon.

I could barely recognize Mr. Frodo. He lay there very still now, and chalk-white. His mouth was slighly open, and his breath came hard and fast, but his chest barely rose. His cheeks were hollow, like they'd been since the attack on Weathertop, but even more so. He looked almost dead. I knelt on the floor beside his bed and put a hand on his forehead. It was cold and clammy. Not a temperature, but not good either.

His eyes opened rapidly, staring upward, then meeting my own. "Sam?" he asked very quietly. His lips barely moved as he spoke, as if even that was a great effort to do.

I took his hand. "I'm here, Mr. Frodo," I said. "You'll be alright, we're going to help you." I didn't want him to know that he was dying, and that he didn't have much longer. And it wasn't exactly lying. We were trying.

"Sam," Mr. Frodo said again, "I won't be alright," he looked at me, bringing a shaking hand up to wipe a tear off of my cheek. "You're crying. I'm going to die."

"No you're not, Mr. Frodo!" I cried, more tears coming, "Not while I have anything to say about it. How does your shoulder feel?"

Mr. Frodo winced, looking towards his left shoulder. "It hurts," he said, "Badly." Then he started coughing. I brought him into a seated position so he could cough more easily. When I laid him back down, he had coughed up a good deal of bloody fluid. It was a bad sign, a terrible sign. Mr. Frodo was going downhill very quickly. "Sam," his voice was now hoarse, "Sam, I'm not-" he coughed again, though not nearly as long or hard as before, "Sam, I'll miss you."

"No!" I cried, "No, Mr. Frodo. Don't talk like that. You're going to get better." I looked into his blue eyes desperately, crying now.

He only smiled sadly and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Sam," he whispered. "I'm so sorry. But I'm not. I'm not strong enough." He looked very closely at me, his own eyes now full of tears. "Goodbye, Sam."

He launched into a coughing fit. Then, when he was finished, he closed his eyes, laid his head on the pillow, and spoke no more.

~To be Continued~

Wow! this was my longest chapter yet, I think.

I bet you're like, "No! you didn't kill Frodo!" Well, *the authoress smiles evilly.* The next chapter might lighten the mood a bit. But not entirely. Did I kill Frodo? Maybe. Probably. He seems dead, doesn't he? Now, before you stop reading, remember that I didn't say 'yes.' There might be a chance that he's not dead. But if he's dead, he's dead. I don't bring characters back to life.

On a lighter note, I have a character for the next chapter. So, no more names needed. But if you give me more names, I might find somewhere to include them. It'll be a surprise who got the part. So, keep reading, please!

And, tell me how I've done, please! Has my muse (Little Frodo action figure) served me well?


	5. Chapter 5

I guess you want to kill me. I can hear the shocked and angry reviewers right now. "You can't kill Frodo!" you cry. Well, I'm the authoress, aren't I? I can do what I want, can't I?

Disclaimer: Tolkien owns Lord of the Rings. Plain and simple. So, why am I doing this to Frodo? I don't know. But I'm sure all of those canon addicts are cringing out there. But, I digress. Tolkein owns it, and I don't. So, don't give me credit for any characters except Iona, and do not give me any credit for Middle Earth, either. Got it?

Summary: On a trip from Minas Tirith to the Shire, Frodo falls dangerously ill. Post quest.

Warnings: I should have warned you last chapter even more strongly! But, as it is, I didn't. Nothing more to warn you about except for the usual things. No sex, slash, or profanity.

Characters: Sam, Frodo, Iona and Arya, Merry, Pippin.

Author's note: This chapter is written from the point of view of Iona. Most others will be written from the point of view of Sam, but not all of them. The narrator will be named in the author's note, though, so there shouldn't be any problems.

~CHAPTER FIVE~

I did not want to tell Samwise that I could do no more to help Frodo. They had been through so much together, and he didn't want to lose him. But I had no choice. And the look on the hobbit's face when I told him was enough to bring tears to even my own eyes.

I had tried. And failed. But there was still a slight chance that Frodo could be healed. But it was so slight that I chose not to tell Sam about it, so as not to break his heart even further if this failed. It was something I had never tried before.

But to do it, I had to leave. "Samwise," I said, touching him on the shoulder.

He looked up at me, cheeks still stained with tears. "Lady Iona?" he replied, puzzled at my cautious tone.

"I must leave for a while. I will return soon," I said to him. "I am going to find something for Frodo. It will help ease his pain." As I said this, I also thought, _And I hope it shall do more than that. It may very well be the only thing that may heal him._ But this I did not say aloud.

Sam nodded slowly. "How long will you be gone?" he asked, "What if something happens while you're gone?" He had never realized how much he depended on me now.

"I won't be long," I said, "You need just stay here. Try to make him comfortable, and, above all, get him to drink water. At least a little bit. It may prolong his life a bit," I turned to leave. "Do not worry, Sam. I will return in a short while."

And with that, I walked into the nearby forest, searching for three herbs which, when boiled together, created a strong, potent medicine, which, once boiled to a paste, could be applied on Frodo's chest to help draw out the fluid in his lungs. I was sure that Sam would be anxious to see him coughing violently, as I was sure he would do to expell the fluid, but it would be the only was possible to save him.

My eyes darted around the sunlit forest for the herbs. I knew what each looked like, and once I gathered a few bunches of each, I could return and make the medicine. But the plants were nowhere in sight.

"_Quel andune_, _Iona_," an elven voice broke the air. "_Mani nae lle umien sinome_?" *

I turned towards her. "Arya!" I cried. Arya Ulandiel was one of my best friends and helpers. "_Sut naa lle?_"**

I told her about Frodo, and my hope that the elixir would perhaps heal him, and that I could not find any of the herbs to make it.

"There is a field of two of the herbs just beyond that hill, and you will find some of the third growing near the large tree over there," Arya replied, pointing.

My face lightened. "Thank you, Arya," I said, quickly gathering the herbs and placing them in my satchel.

Arya nodded. "It is nothing. I will come with you," she said, "Perhaps I can help." With this, we began to walk back to the camp.

I only hoped we weren't too late.

_~To be continued~_

*Elvish translation: Good afternoon, Iona. What are you doing here?

**Elvish translation: How are you?

So sorry for the very short chapter. I was on vacation, and I didn't have much time to write. It was so hard to write from Iona's POV. I think I will just use one of the hobbits' POV from now on.

REVIEW MEEE!


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the long wait! School... and other things. Yeah, yeah, I know. Excuses. I will not be able to upload quite as often as I used to, though.

Disclaimer: I own my shiny new phone, my computer, and my books. I do NOT own Lord of the Rings.

Warnings: The usual angst. The medical procedures described in this chapter are purely fictional, except for the mouth-to-mouth breathing. DO NOT TRY IT AT HOME! No sex, slash, or profanity.

Author's note: This chapter is told from Pippin's perspective. As I have said before, most will be from Sam's, but some will not. And this is the chapter where you find out if Frodo lives.

And without further ado, I give you...

~CHAPTER SIX~

When Sam came out of the wagon looking like he did, I knew that one of two things happened. Frodo died, or Frodo was really close to dying. Merry and I were gathering mushrooms for elevenses and trying to cook them, since Sam wasn't here. We thought we'd make him some food, and maybe get Frodo to eat some too.

But as soon as he came out, I knew it was no use. For one thing, he wouldn't just get up and leave Frodo. And for another, he'd been crying, pretty hard by the looks of it. I got up, letting the spoon fall into the pot of boiling water. Merry called me a Fool of a Took, but I didn't listen. "What happened, Sam?" I asked.

Sam looked at me through tear-filled eyes. "Iona told me earlier that he didn't have much hope," he said more to himself than to me, "But I didn't think it would be so soon!" He sat on one of the logs we had arranged around our campfire.

Merry, seeing what happened also came over to us. "Frodo's... dead?" He asked in disbelief.

Sam made no reply. He was too upset to think about that. "I tried to help him," he sobbed, "I tried to help Mr. Frodo. But it was no use. He wouldn't take the medicine. And now it's too late."

I looked at Merry, my vision blurred. Tears welled in his eyes too. _After everything we've been through_, I thought, _We have to be seperated like this._

Out of compulsion, I stood up and walked to the wagon. Sam and Merry watched me. Slowly I climbed into the wagon, pulled back the flap, and went inside. The flap closed behind me. A small lantern lit the inside of the wagon.

Very slowly, and shyly, I might add, I walked up to Frodo and knelt beside him. He had blood on the corner of his mouth. I took a wet cloth and wiped it off. In the dim light, I couldn't tell if his chest was rising at all, so I put a hand on it. I felt nothing.

I picked up his hand, which was cold and clammy, and lay it beside him, then I put an ear to his chest. I couldn't hear anything. Not even the wheezing that was common with pneumonia. I sat up and hung my head. It was true, then.

I got up and left the wagon.

About five minutes later, Iona and another elf returned. Sam had gone back inside of the wagon, just in case Frodo wasn't really dead. Merry was looking for something to eat, and I was stirring the pot of mushroom stew disconsolantely.

Iona saw my downcast face. "It is too late," she said sadly, sort of questioningly. The other elf looked at her, then at me.

I nodded slowly. "Sam's in there now," I said, "trying to bring him back. But I don't think he's alive anymore." I sniffed.

Instead of sitting down, Iona said something briskly in elvish to her companion. "Arya, my friend," she explained to me, then, "We must try to revive him. Have you another pot?"

I glanced at her sideways-y, as if to say, 'Don't you know anything?' "Course we do," I said, "Hobbits always bring extra cooking pots, and food." My stomach growled. I remembered that we hadn't had elevenses yet, and it was time for Luncheon.

Nevertheless, I took the mushroom stew off of the fire and got another pot out. Iona ladled some water from a bucket into it, and handed it to Arya, who broke several plants into pieces and put them in. I wiped the wooden spoon off of with a cloth and handed it to Arya. she hung the pot over the fire and began stirring.

Iona rushed (or whatever elves do) to the wagon. I followed. She climbed in. Merry had wandered off, or he would have been there too.

She knelt beside Frodo and unbuttoned his shirt and began to rub his chest, speaking in muttered Elvish all the time. "Hand me the medicine box, Peregrin," she said. Sam was helping her rub life back into Frodo.

I grabbed the medicine box and hurried back, tripping over something on the floor and falling, the box sliding from my hands over to Iona. Sam rolled his eyes. "Watch where you're going, you Fool of a Took!" he cried, "That could have landed on Mr. Frodo. Then what would you have done?"

I wanted to tell him that only Gandalf could call me that, but I didn't, which was probably a wise move on my part. Instead, I just picked myself up, muttered, "Sorry," and walked back over to them to see what Iona did.

After rubbing for about a minute, she lifted his chin, opened his mouth, and, covering it with her own, exhaled slowly. I saw Frodo's chest rise as air filled his lungs.

Iona saw this too, and, satisfied, returned to rubbing his chest. I cautiously reached my hand out to touch his wrist, and though it was still clammy, it felt a bit warmer than before.

Arya and Merry came in. The brown haired, blue eyed elf carried a few cloths and a steaming bowl of a pasty substance. Merry sat down next to me.

Iona spoke to Arya, and the latter spread some of the paste onto the cloths and lay them across Frodo's chest. I was amazed that it didn't burn him, because the paste was so hot.

A few minutes passed. Frodo showed no sign of improving. Sam was near tears, and even the elves looked desperate. Just then, Frodo got red in the face. He began to cough. He coughed and coughed so hard I thought he'd burst. He coughed up a lot of blood and fluids. I turned away, not wanting to look.

When the coughing subsided, I turned back, just in time to see Frodo's eyes open.

~To be Continued~

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